I Spy
by Sinangeled
Summary: "My name is Buffy Summers. I used to be a spy. Until I got burned." Based on idea of Burn Notice. Features Angel and Giles with appearances by Willow and Spike. B/A mentions of G/J
1. Intro

_**As much as I try, as long as I stare blackly at Blindness, I can't seem to finish chapter 6. I do have about two scenes, but after that...Nothing! SO, to distract myself, I started a new fic. Smart, right? *nodds sarcastically* Oh well, maybe Santa will give a some inspiration for xmas. THough I'd also like a yaught. **_

_**This story is based off the idea of burn notice, and also the dynamics between both B/A and B/Aus. Angel is still Angel I think, but he has some traits from both. Buffy is still mostly Buffy to me. Giles, who you won't be meeting until I finish chapter 2, does have some more, lets say Ripperish tenancies. I think this fic will be a little easier to write than some of the others because in AU's, you can pretty much do whatever you want. **_

_**So after that ridiculously long Author's note, I present a single measly paragraph. (no worries, next chapter is already up!)**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_** -Sinangeled**_

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Intro:

My name is Buffy Summers. I used to be a spy. Until I got burned. When you're burned, you lose everything. No cash, no credit card, no job history. You're stuck in whatever city they decide to dump you in. In my case, Los Angeles. You rely on anyone who's still talking to you. Your reformed ex-assassin/ ex-boyfriend. The ex-MI6 agent who considers you a daughter. Your civvie friends too, if you're really desperate. The bottom line is, until you find out who burned you, you're not going anywhere.


	2. Chapter 1

**_So here it is, i hope you enjoy it. _**

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Chapter 1:

Buffy Summer whimpered. She hurt all over. She was inexplicably reminded of the time, her freshman year in high school, when she had been slipped drugs in her first alcoholic drink. Now that was an experience she'd rather forget.

She grimaced again, and sat bolt upright and looked around wildly. Her gaze landed on the sumptuous half-naked male lounging next to her. He had a cocky grin on his face. Bastard. She hurt. He wasn't allowed to smirk at her. She ran her hands over her face and was reassured when she found all the usual bits attached. She spared her companion a fleeting glance. Shaking her head, she sat up straighter and tugged the linen sheets up to her chin. She was only wearing her bra, thankfully not an embarrassing one, and if the button digging ever so slightly into her tummy was any indicator, her old leather pants.

"Where am I?" she asked. Her companion grinned at her.

"L.A." he said. She shook her head gently.

"No" she said aloud. When the man opened his mouth to speak, she raised a digit and he fell momentarily quiet.

"The last thing I remember…" she murmured. Then her hazel eyes widened angrily.

"They set me up!" she snarled. Angel raised an eyebrow at her.

"Told you, you shudda quit babe," he drawled. Momentarily distracted she gave him an incredulous glare.

"What's with the accent Angel?" she asked.

"Ah, I dunno lass, think it's quite good meself," he told her in his usual Irish brogue.

"You sound like a crack –addicted gangster from Louisiana," she informed him dryly.

"Well, perhaps it was a bit over the top," he conceded in a softer American accent.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned. He raised an eyebrow. She blushed slightly.

"It's just," she shrugged, "well, you know"

"Do I?" he asked staring deep into her eyes. Damn him for being able to affect her like this.

"You should," she stated coldly. His deep brown eyes met hers for a moments and she caught a glimpse of anguish, and something that looked suspiciously like… _don't say it. _Then they were hooded and carefully schooled into nonchalance again. He graced her with an angry shrug.

"At least I'm here." His voice was cold. "The only one here, curious that, my love, that 'tis only me here, where is your corn-fed Iowa boy whom you trusted so much." His voice was heavily sarcastic. Buffy closed her eyes for a brief moment. Riley Finn was one of the worst mistakes she had ever made. She opened her eyes. _Hiding from your problems is dangerous, literal or metaphorical, it is always best to kill them before they can catch up to you._ She shrugged semi-casually.

"No idea," she told him, and moved to get up. In an instant she was pinned to the bed, his superior weight pressing into her. She cocked an eyebrow at him. His eyes were dark.

"I thought you _loved_ him, _trusted_ him." Angel's voice was heavy with loathing. Buffy looked at him, the one person she could always rely on, the one person she wouldn't want to live without, the one person who was so totally off limits it wasn't even worth getting into. Not that it had stopped them before, but still.

"I was pissed at you," she admitted. "I said some things in the heat of the moment that I didn't mean. Why do you care?" He gave her another one of his Deep Looks.

"You know damn well why," he said in a low voice. She looked at him in the eye and he released her forearms from where she was pinned. She swiftly flipped them over and rested her chin on his (extremely well, muscled, even better than last time...) chest. She gave him a bright and scary smile.

"See, actually I don't" she said, "on account of you never really sticking around. Not that I want you too," she clarified quickly.

"I've told you a million and one times," he said in a low voice, "not usually in words, but you have to know" Buffy shook her head, she couldn't deal with this now. She got off of him and curled up in the chair on the other side of the bland, but reasonably luxurious hotel room they were ensconced in.

Her mind flashed back to the last things she could recall.

_***She had been in Russia, the former U.S.S.R. as Giles had always called it. A rouge element of the government had been planning a coup, not unusual in many parts of the world, and she had been sent to do recon and if possible, stop it. Everything had been according to plan, she, sporting a witchy black wig and some impressive scars as well as some really tacky clothing. _

_She had been Nadia, no last name, a semi-psychotic killer for hire. The rouge element of the government had been thrilled to find someone like her. A fellow agent had been playing her handler. She had been in a meeting with the men, (and somehow it was almost always men intent on staging a poorly planned and violent coup likely to fail) and they had been waiting for her handler to show. He hadn't. _

_The agent had told her his name was Todd. She said hers was Marie and used just the barest hint of a southern accent around him. But thirty minutes passed and he hadn't shown. She had begun to worry after 5 minutes. By that point, she had been as close to panic as any trained operative could be. She looked stiffly at the increasingly jumpy men surrounding the table, some of their eyes already blurred from vodka. _

"_I vill call him" she said stiffly. She walked over to bar. The phone didn't pick up and she found a gun pressed into the back of her neck as she was turning to walk back to the table. _

"_I haff heard an… interesting story," the man breathed in her ear. _

"_Oh?" she huffed. _

"_The story of an American assassin…." He trailed off. _

_She sneered at him, wrinkling up the prosthetic nose. "There is noh one as good as I" she assured him, as though she had thought he had been thinking of the competition. In reality, she was whirling through her options and possible scenarios that could have gotten her here. _

_The most likely was that her partner had betrayed her. The man studied her for a moment and she carefully schooled her features to look haughty and irritated instead of the panic she was feeling. _

"_Vell?" she snapped. _

"_Vaght village did you say you were from?" that fat man with the bald head asked her. She glowered at him for a moment and gave the name of a town that had been destroyed right around the time she had begun her supposed career as a killer for hire. Her mind had instantly gone to Angelus and she cursed him for managing to distract her when he had to be thousands of miles away. _

"_Very vell." The men got up from their table. One turned to look at her. _

"_Since your contact is not available I vould avise you to find him," she felt something prick her skin and whirled around wildly, yanking a dart out of her thigh. "Once we are done with you." The man finished. _

_It no longer mattered wether her cover was blown or not. Being captured would mean death for her. She ran. Knocking aside her assailants with starling speed, she was out of the dingy bar where they had been meeting before her attackers even realized what she was doing. After a five minute sprint, she was back in her hotel room and calling her boss. _

"_What the hell just happened," she snapped. She could practically see Travers on the other end of the line, relaxing in his office, smoking a large cigar. The was a pause. _

"_What happened?" he finally said. _

"_Well," she forced out of her numbing lips, the drugs were taking effect and she struggled to remain awake. "Let's see, my partner never showed up and I am fairly sure my cover was blown. There was no backup in case something happened and how I am drugged up in my hotel room trying not to pass out!"_

_There was another pause. "We've got a burn notice on you," the man said, "You're blacklisted." _

_Her eyes shut as she heard the dial tone and crumpled to the floor.*_**

Buffy opened her eyes to look at Angel. "I was burned," she told him. He gave her a nod, and hesitated a moment.

"I was in the city anyway," he told her. "Your friend Willow tracked me down and begged me to find you, in between insulting my parents heritage and just about everything else of course. I made a few calls." Buffy felt eternally grateful to Willow, although she hated the handsome assassin, she must have known that he would help Buffy, even for his own nefarious reasons.

"So..." she prompted.

"So what?" he smirked.

"Really, Angel." He grinned at her.

"As much as I would love to continue this enlightening conversation," he told her, " I really have to go."

"You do?" she asked him, her voice almost imploring. _Damn him for making me sound like a stupid sixteen year old. _

He stalked over to her chair and swooped in to kiss her. He gave a rumbling laugh.

"Yeah baby," he murmured in his more moderated American accent. "Wouldn't want your daddy putting a bullet in me."

She froze. Hank Summers was dead to her, but there was another man who had essentially taken his role in her life.

"Giles is coming?" she asked. He grinned at her.

"And you claim not to get me." He blew her a kiss and slid his shirt back on. Stunned, she watched him go. Just as he was about to shut the door something occurred to her.

"Angel?" she asked. He paused.

"Yes?"

"What happened to my shirt?"

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**_Reviews are always lovely and helpful and excellent motivators. _**


	3. Chapter 2

Hey, here is chapter 2, it is a little short, but i wanted to get it out before i head out for the holidays. :)

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2

Buffy picked up the shopping bag lying in the corner of the room. In it was a nice set of casual clothing in colors she knew would complement her and as she discarded all of her old thing, she found they fit her perfectly.

"We need to talk about that stalking thing Angel," she muttered under her breath. She walked into the bathroom where she procured a toothbrush and toothpaste and cleaned her mouth, relishing the sensation of clearing away the stale taste.

She looked at herself in the mirror. An attractive young blonde looked back at her. She was 26 years old, looked a good deal younger normally, but could appear to be 40 or older if she applied the right makeup. She had large hazel-green eyes that she considered attractive. She had full pink lips, clear skin that was tan and golden, and a nose with a funny end that annoyed her. She looked like a typical California girl. Athletic, tan, attractive. She looked sweet, innocent in her baby pink tee and white capri's.

She was anything but.

Oh, she had been once upon a time. She had been your typical girl, living in an attractive home with wealthy parents in a snotty suburb in Florida. She had been a cheerleader and may queen and kind of a bitch if she wanted to be honest. Then had come her parent's messy divorce and the custodial battle. Finally, he mother had dragged her off to live in California. Everything had been fine for a year, the move had been hard on 16 year old Buffy, but then her mother had remarried and the nightmare began.

*_Her new stepfather, Ted, was terrifying, and worse, her mother didn't care. Or rather, Joyce did care, but was too scared and selfish to do anything. Ted was violent and Buffy was scared of him. And it went like that for months. Then Ted had wanted to vacation in Japan, and Buffy's mother had dragged her along, manipulating and pleading. Buffy hadn't cared for the country, once where no one looked twice at a domineering male with a too tight grip on a scared little blonde. Once they had arrived at the hotel, Ted had all but ordered Joyce to go to the spa and leave Buffy with him. She had complied. _

_Buffy hadn't. She had taken one look at him, kicked him where it would hurt, and ran. She was young and fit and he was in pain. It wasn't too difficult to escape. Or get lost. It had become pretty apparent to her that most people in Japan didn't like tourists. And she hadn't found anyone who seemed to be able to speak English. _

_She was tired and panicky and scared. She just wanted to find the American embassy, explain what was going on, and go home. She hoped to hell she never saw Ted again and that her mother was alright. Her panic must have been apparent on her face because when the man she had just bumped into spoke, it was in a soothing tone. _

"_Are you okay?" Angel had said to her in soothing tones. She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. _

"_No" her voice cracked. She took a shuddery deep breath. _

"_Are you lost?" he asked her. His beautiful brown eyes looked into hers and she felt warmth flood her soul. She took another breath. _

"_Yes," she said, "But, but- I, I mean, I need to get to the American embassy." He raised his eyebrows at her. Later she would realize just what it had meant for him to take her there. But then all she had known was that he had looked at her for another moment. _

"_We're only a twenty minute walk away," he told her. "Would you like to walk or take a taxi?" She hadn't had any money on her. _

"_Walk," she said quietly. He had nodded and looked at her with concern. _

"_This way," he said, and had gently touched her elbow. She jumped slightly and he looked at her with even more concern. He kept up a running monologue about the city and it's history, quirky little facts, and she was grateful for it. He stopped a block away from the embassy. She could see the flag waving gently in the polluted air of the city. She watched him look at her for a moment. _

"_Are you here alone?" he asked quietly. "I'm only asking because if there is anyone you want me to contact for you while you're in there…" He looked like an angel, big and safe and heartbreakingly beautiful, he was young too, it seemed, though his clothes were formal, he looked about 10 years older. _

_She felt relief flood her dazed system. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, please, my mother… she, she's there and…oh God," hysteria began to set in. _

"_Shhhh, shhhh," her angel said. "Do you have a phone number? Or the hotel address?" She nodded._

_She never thought not to tell him. _

_She had never thought that after the ordeal with the embassy they would go back to the hotel._

_She had never thought her mother would be bound unconscious, knocked out with a mild sedative. _

_She had never thought that Ted would be dead. She had laughed when she'd seen it. Ted. Dead. Funny. _

_It had been a vicious brutal murder, but later in her life she had been able to identify the handiwork that had been put into it. A work of art really. He had only possessed about an hour to kill her stepfather and had gone for maximum pain in a short time. _

_A week later, back in the U.S., arriving at her father's house after the exhausting investigation had come to an end, (well, for her anyway) she had received a beautiful bouquet of white lilies and black roses. _

_She hadn't expected that either. _

_But then, doing the unexpected was sort of Angel's signature move_.*

A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie. Bemused,(_ since when was she into introspection_?) she went to open the door. She took a quick glance out the peephole and grinned. Giles _was_ there.

She opened the door. "Giles!" she exclaimed happily. He entered the room swiftly shutting and locking the door.

"Buffy!" he hissed. "Did I teach you nothing about security?" She pouted.

"Well, yeah, but since…" she paused. It would be a very bad thing for Giles to know Angel was here. Being that he hated his guts and all.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked in a moderated tone. Giles peered at her sternly over his spectacles.

"I received an anonymous tip, Buffy…" he trailed off. She looked at him.

"Yeah?"

"You do know what just happened, do you not?"

It was a good question. Did she? There was some idea of what had happened, at least on the burn notice front. But knowing why was a damn bit better than a half-answered what.

"Some, Giles," she replied. "But I don't know why."

"Ah" he said, as they stood awkwardly in the hallway. Giles had been the one to tell her about the importance of why. He understood. He gestured to the rest of the bland, semi-luxurious suite.

"Shall we?" They walked into the room and took seats. Buffy slumped on the couch. Giles sat, back straight, in a faux-antique armchair. There was another moment of silence. Giles was a perfect British gentleman, (well, most of the time, he wasn't quite so nice when interrogating or killing but, well, whatever) and he talked only when he had something to say. He also was very effective at wielding silence as a weapon. He made Buffy feel like a naughty child.

"I'm blacklisted," Buffy said. Words had power, and saying them let the reality of the situation sink in.

"Well, yes," Giles agreed.

"Why?" she asked blankly, "I mean, what did I do? I was always good, really kept my nose clean, didn't violate any rules or really, most people's ethics. I always did a good job, one or two messes of course, but…" she shrugged. "I don't know. This is a bit of a shock, I did just wake up."

Giles regarded her. He seemed to hesitate a moment. It couldn't be good news. Giles had developed a soft spot for Buffy when on one of her first missions; they had been part of a joint operation between the U.S. and England. She had been playing the bratty American stepdaughter to a flustered diplomat. She smiled slightly at the memory. Her smile vanished quickly. If Giles was hesitating to tell her something, it couldn't be good.

He took off his glasses and began to clean them. "You've been accused of a lot of unpleasant things Buffy, things I know, and anyone else who really knows you will know, that you did not do. However, anyone who gets in contact with you is also at risk so I doubt you'll be getting much assistance from your colleagues."

_***Spies don't have a lot of friends. The more connections you have, the easier it is for someone to manipulate them, and the easier it is for you both to end up dead. Instead, spies have contacts, people who know little and care even less. Things are safer that way. ***_

Buffy would have had difficulty burning all those bridges, but luckily for her, many of them had been torched long before she had been forced to make that decision. She had few people she considered real friends. Willow. Xander. Faith, until she had gone crazy. Kendra, until she had died. There was Giles of course, and Angel? Did he count? At the very least, she knew she could trust him with her life, if not anyone else's.

"Won't you be in trouble?" she asked Giles. He smiled at her.

"I let my superiors know a few months ago I wanted to retire soon," he told her. "I'm getting older after all, and they let me know though they'd miss me, perhaps it was time." Translation; they didn't consider Giles a threat and wouldn't kill him or spend much time tracking him. "I spent a month enjoying my new occupation as a gentleman of leisure when Wesley alerted me to your predicament, and here I am." Buffy felt a little emotional.

"But Giles," she protested, "this'll mess up your retirement, oh god, I'm so sorry-" He cut her off.

"Buffy," he snapped. "I am bloody bored out of my mind. You will accept my assistance and that will be that! Otherwise, I will not be held responsible for murdering my busybody neighbors!" A slow smile stole across Buffy's face.

"Welcome to Los Angeles then."

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Don't be a Scrooge! Be generous with reviews :)

[on a side note, i just won the dorkiest rhyme of the year award! Score!]


	4. Chapter 3

_**Okay, so here's Chapter 3. I wasn't planning on bringing Spike in until way later, but Angel was being such a drama queen, and I think Spike makes an excellent charcter in a story about spies. Not that he's subtle, but hey! He's violent!**_

_**And for anyone who is worrying (or hoping) there will be NO spuffy. Maybe some harmless flirting, but nothing else. I'd hate to have to get Angel to kill him.**_

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Chapter 3

_In a world where everyone lies, the truth takes on an important quality. Truth is the holy grail in a world where lies are traded as a commodity and where it is rare for anyone to have more than a piece of the puzzle. Truth is also a weapon. It can be dangerous. And it can be turned against you. But sometimes the risk of keeping something secret can be greater than sharing it freely, and it also makes you seem more trustworthy, at least in most cases. _

Unfortunately, this wasn't one of them. Buffy steeled herself to drop the bomb on Giles before he found out for himself.

They had moved from the hotel to a nearby restaurant which had good beer, Giles had informed her, and tables that were far away from each other in a noisy environment. Perfect. But they were still in public and Giles very likely had several weapons on him. Best not to chance it yet.

"…And that's the last thing I remember," she said with a sigh. His face was furrowed and he looked deep in thought.

"Well," he said, "It doesn't sound as though anything on that particular trip caused your blacklisting… Though one can never be sure." Buffy shrugged.

"From what I heard…" she said trailing off and cursing her slip.

"What?" Giles inquired. She shook her head.

"Nothing," she said. "I'll tell you once we're back at the hotel." She frowned for a moment, pondering how she had gotten there and who was paying for, well, no. Duh. But she still added it to her list.

The list had begun after the ordeal in Japan, as a way to deal with the questions and guilt that her first encounter with Angelus had produced. In later years, she had added other things to it, other questions she wanted him to answer. He had laughed when she had once sleepily told him about it and covered her in kisses, promising that one day he'd tell her everything. That day still hadn't arrived. Not that she wanted it to. Really.

She sighed. Denial didn't suit her but she still tried the best she could. She noticed that Giles was looking at her with mild concern.

"I'm fine," she assured him. He gave her a nod.

"Well," he said, "I had thought to take my leave of your company tonight and meet you in the morning. Does that, ah, work for you? Oh, and if I may inquire, how are you going to pay for your hotel room? I am more than able to take care of it if need be, dear girl." Buffy gave him a strained smile.

"I really do need to tell you something else tonight Giles," she said, "but I can't tell you here."

He looked at her for a moment and gave a nod. He paid in cash and left a perfectly average tip. They took a cab to a nearby hotel and then walked a few blocks to where Buffy was staying.

Once in her room, Giles sat down in one of the armchairs and steepled his fingers.

"I'm assuming this is important," he stated. Buffy exhaled.

"Yes, it really is," she said, "But before I tell you, I want you to put all of the weapons you have on you into the hotel safe. Please," she added. Giles looked at her with suspicion. Theirs was not a profession that bred trust. But in the end, Giles trusted her enough to do so, and enough not to ask why. Besides, it wasn't as though he wasn't capable of defending himself without the Walther PPK and revolver or knives he kept on him. He placed them in the safe and locked it. Regarding her all the while, he calmly moved back to his seat.

"Very well then," he said, "Care to share, Buffy?" The ironical tone made her smile for a minute, and then frown, realizing that the particular instance he was referencing was, of course, tied to Angel.

It was getting a tad ridiculous.

"Okay," she breathed, "Okay, Um, Giles? Promise no immediate revenge seeking suicide mission type-things, okay? 'Cause well, I, well, it would be bad. Really bad."

"Good lord," Giles said, "This _must_ be severe."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Well, it could be. Very bad. Which is why there will be no reckless killing, kay?"

Giles raised an eyebrow sardonically.

"Point taken," Buffy said. "Okay, so, okay, well, you know that anonymous tip you got telling where I was and stuff?"

"Yes," Giles said with a touch of impatience.

"Well, it kind of sort of came from Angel..us" she tacked on quickly. Giles looked scary when he was mad. But the sort of haunted rage that crossed his face before he regained control was even worse. There was something inherently wrong with it; it was like watching a parent break down. Not that she hadn't already witnessed that and worse.

"What was he doing?" he spat out. The phone rang. Buffy looked at it. Giles looked at it. He snarled.

"He's monitoring us, isn't he? That thrice damned bastard." Buffy winced.

"I didn't have any materials to do a sweep. And I woke up here," she said. Giles stalked over to the phone and wrenched the receiver off.

"What?" he snapped. On the other end, Angel laughed.

"Really Rupert! Whatever happened to British decorum?" Just because he would eventually have to get Ripper to drop his vendetta, didn't mean he couldn't have some fun first.

"What do you want?" came the snarling reply. Oh, that _was_ a good question wasn't it? He had a general idea, but still needed to work out the details.

"Put Buffy on, would you?" he asked.

"I bloody well will not!" Ripper retorted. Angel sighed. People were so uncooperative at times.

"You can rest assured, Ripper, that I only have Buffy's best interests at heart. And though surrogate father you may be, Buffy has been an adult for a very long time now. Let her decide for herself."

He heard the two argue briefly from one of several bugs he had planted in Buffy's hotel room. His golden girl picked up the line.

"What do you want, Angel?" came the expected unhappy reply. Whatever. She would be at least a little relieved to hear from him.

"Good question darling, but I think you can do better." There was a silence on the other line as she contemplated what he had said.

"Okay," Buffy responded. "What do I want?" Angel grinned. Buffy was so much more than just a pretty face. And incredible body. He mentally ordered himself to stop drooling.

"You, my dear, and Rupert who I'm sure is listening to our every word, want to get out of the hotel and go somewhere safe. Do you recall the group of London bombers that you humiliatingly destroyed in '91 Ripper? Because they certainly haven't forgotten you."

He heard Ripper swearing and Buffy questioning him.

"I'd go quickly, you two, Michaels is on a plane that arrives in about 20 minutes." He heard Ripper taking back the phone.

"How do you know this? And how do they know where we are? Why would you tell us anyway?" Why did people always question his motives? He wasn't that bad of a guy, if one discounted all the people he had killed…

Eh, they mostly deserved it anyway.

"An…associate of mine, goes by Spike, he has a bit of an issue with them, and he asked me to keep tabs on them."

"And you did so why?" he heard Buffy from the bug. "Cause you're such a nice guy?" Angel smiled.

"He's good at what he does." He replied. "Anyway, 17 minutes and counting Ripper. Best of luck. I'll be in touch." He hung up with a smile on his face. Buffy getting burned was very promising. And it may yet turn out to be the best bit of fun he'd had since Vienna.

He quickly and efficiently packed up his things and took the stairs down to his car. He may have looked a bit funny carrying a suitcase down the stairs, but he was handsome so all oddities were forgivable. Being trapped in an elevator, a prime spot for assassinations, was not. He swung the suitcase into the trunk and pulled a sleek Beretta out of the glove box. He pulled out one of his cell phones and dialed the number he needed from memory.

"What is it you wanker?" came the irritable reply.

"Hello to you too, William," Angel shot back.

"Shut the hell up, Angelus, can you delay them or not?" Angel grinned.

"I can't… but I know some people who'll be doing it regardless." He waited a moment as Spike contemplated his statement. Three, two,-

"Cut the cryptic shit Angelus, who and why and do they know about me?"

"I won't tell you yet, because the man is the reason they're coming here in the first place, and only in the vaguest of terms," Angel responded. He heard Spike snort down the line.

"Well that was bloody uninformative, thanks for all your help," came the sarcastic reply. Angel frowned. He needed Spike to do what he wanted without making it seem like he was manipulating the other man.

"There are two of them," he told Spike, "But the Liberators are after the man."

"A couple, eh?" No. No they were not. Angel repressed a brief flare of anger. Spike hadn't seen them. Or lead Buffy to the man best equipped to help her survive the world she had been thrust into.

"No," he said firmly. "An older man and a woman young enough to be his daughter. He's her mentor. Harm them in any way, and will kill you, as painfully as I can manage. And you've known me long enough to know what an unpleasant experience that would be William." He could practically hear the wheels spinning in Spike's head.

"Is this girl the reason you've been planning an exit strategy for the past two years?" It had been longer than that, but Spike really didn't need to know that.

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "Find them Spike, and either they'll lead you to the Liberators, or the Liberators will come and find you."

A grunt of agreement came down the line and Angel terminated the call. As he sped down a back alley he noticed his tail heading the wrong direction with satisfaction. He didn't want the bother of blowing up the other vehicle. Things tended to get messy when he did that, and he was planning on sticking around L.A. for a while.

Besides, he had work to do.

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**_Reviews! Please! Positive or negative feedback is always appreciated. _**


	5. Chapter 4

Hey :) It's been a while and I apologize for the lateness of this. On the brightside, it is about twice as long as the other chapters.

Anyway, enjoy!

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Chapter 4

Giles had a car, pretty decent for a rental, though completely nondescript, and they drove to a bank. Mrs. Elizabeth Winters removed the contents of her safe deposit box, and if they were heavier than the usual papers and jewels, then no one was the wiser. Then they drove to a safe house, one that wasn't government sponsored.

"Are you sure about this Buffy?" Giles said. She nodded.

"This place is in no way connected to you. Only me and Kendra knew about it," she replied. It went without saying that Kendra was dead, and was unlikely to be sharing secrets with anyone.

They entered the small adobe house at the end of the seemingly in-construction cul-de-sac. Buffy quickly disarmed the alarm.

"Okay," she told him. "There are two bedrooms down the hall to the left and a bunker in the basement."

Giles raised his eyes. She met them straight on.

"After the incident with Walsh," she told him, "It became apparent that my superiors weren't always deserving of my trust. Kendra and I realized that if 1.2 million dollars were to become 1 with no prior knowledge of the figures, it wouldn't hurt anyone."

"So you set this place up with funds you appropriated from your government?" he questioned.

"No," Buffy replied. "Money stolen from a corrupt regime in Nicaragua." Giles himself was known for honesty, but he had been quite the rule breaker in his younger days. He had no grounds to chastise her. He nodded.

"Very well then."

They quickly unloaded the car and Buffy cleaned the weapons she had retrieved while Giles made a few calls.

He walked back into the room. She looked up at him and he gave her a nod.

"News?" she asked. He nodded.

"Excellent," she grinned. "So what's the story with these Liberators and you?" Giles sighed.

"Back when I was younger," he began, "I was quite the little rebel. I had dropped out of Oxford and taken up less…academic pursuits. It was there I met Ethan Rayne. We were young and stupid and quickly started getting into trouble. One night, we attended a party with our mutual friends, and drugs were involved. Our friend, Rodney, died of an overdose, and Ethan was brutally harassed by the police officers involved. The event scared me enough that I went back to the university and, well, to use a turn of phrase, got back on the straight and narrow.

Ethan and I really didn't see each other after that, as we both disapproved of what the other was doing. Some six years later, I was working for, well, I was working in our field, above board at the time, when I was given the assignment to infiltrate a terrorist group called the Liberators. I can't tell you much, and I don't particularly want to I'm afraid to say, but I was selected for the assignment because Ethan had joined up."

Buffy looked at him with wide eyes.

"Ouch," she said.

"Rather," Giles replied dryly. "Suffice it to say that I did so successfully, and I caused them a humiliating failure without any suspicion falling on me. But in a bizarre twist of events, it became rumor that it was Ethan who had been doing the betraying. They killed him of course, and I was left with a large amount of rage and the remaining high grade explosives. The man who's coming here, Michaels, was the one who put the bullet in the man who had once been my best friend's brain. So I left him alive for the explosion.

Unfortunately, the police were able to rescue him and my superiors did not deem him an adequate threat at the time. He went to a normal prison. His coconspirators failed to break him out and I imagine it served to further humiliate him. However, it appears, if the information Angelus gave us is good-"

"It will be," Buffy interrupted. "He has a bizarre code of honor that means unless he's on a job he doesn't lie." Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his nose.

"I'll take your word for it," he said. "Anyway, as I was saying, it would appear as though he is here on a revenge mission, and he will be gunning for me."

"Yes," Buffy said. "But revenge makes people sloppy. You taught me that, and if that's the case, and you know, you humiliated him and all that, then I would guess he'd wanna make whatever bizzaro grunge thing he's gonna do public."

"Yes," Giles said. "I would imagine so." Buffy nodded.

"So we can get that to work against him," she said, "if we can convince him you're going to be in a specific place at a specific time, it would be easy enough to get him then."

"Well, yes, but Buffy-"

"I guess we need some way to get rid of him, and I'd like to avoid killing him, since murder, even justifiable murder, doesn't sit too well with me. Oh! Maybe we can frame him for something!"

"Buffy!" Giles said. She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?" she said. Giles looked uncomfortable.

"Well, I feel as though it's a tad unfair to bring you into this, I mean, this is my problem Buffy and-"

"Giles?" she said. "Shut up." He looked sheepish.

"Ah, very well then, yes, well framing him would be good I suppose, but I really don't think that it would justify blowing something up and killing lots of people." Buffy grinned.

"We don't have to Giles, this is America, the land of the free, and the home of the easily incarcerated. The drug laws here are really stiff, and the prison industry is a huge business. All we have to do is get him caught with a large amount of drugs and he'll be in jail for the next twenty years or so," Buffy smiled, "It's perfect." Giles considered it for a moment.

"I think that should do nicely then," he said. "But what about the drugs?"

Buffy looked amused. "This is L.A. There is nothing you can't get here. I know a club where the deal in high quality shipments from a cartel in East Mexico. We'll steal a shipment from them and frame this Michaels guy for it."

Giles looked worried. "But what if the cartel knows it's us."

Buffy smiled. "They won't. Trust me."

Kato was a Japanese themed club. Very trendy, very hard to get into. They had good food, good music, and excellent liquor. What most of the patrons didn't know, was that it also had excellent cocaine, among other things. They also probably were unaware of the fact that the Japanese club was run by a group of men from a bad part of Mexico (and a guy from Florida, but who was counting?).

Jorge "el zorro" Banderez ran the club in addition to the less legal enterprises that it hosted. The club had been his idea and he had made a killing on it. His boss had been very impressed and had thoughtfully not killed him. He was making plenty of money selling decent quality drugs in large quantities to a variety of customers, most of whom would never have gone to a bad neighborhood no matter how much they craved a hit. Accessibility was key to his business; the posh club made it easy for people to get access to hard drugs.

Tuesday had been a little slow that night, but otherwise, things had seemed pretty normal. His men had been staking out the back entrance, where a deal was about to go down with a Vice Principle of a private high school. He had been making the rounds around the club, checking with the dealers on the floor and making sure the sushi chefs who were visible to his patrons were looking good. Everything had been going smoothly. He'd glanced at his Rolex, flashed a smile to a slightly intoxicated, but no less beautiful woman in her early thirties, and had made to move outside.

Benny should have taken ten kilo's of coke out of one of Kato's hidden safe's and moved it to a briefcase to go outside, and all that remained was for Jorge to seal the deal with the Mr. Andrews. Unfortunately, things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. He had met Benny and they had walked out the back, but when they came out, a man with graying hair and spectacles, dressed in tweed, was lying shot in the middle of the alley, and his men were nowhere to be seen.

"Hostia!" he barked. "Benny, vé él y dime sí es vivo!" Benny ran over to the man and was about to take his pulse when something hit Jorge in the back, and his vision darkened before he passed out.

When he awoke, his missing men were tied up in the alley along with Benny. The briefcase was gone.

Buffy and Giles were driving back to her house, the briefcase with the drugs (sans the tracker) in the trunk of the sedan Giles had gotten to replace his rental.

"I need to get a car," Buffy mused. Giles looked at her.

"My nerves and I are rather hoping you don't" he said. She looked at him, miffed.

"I'll have you know that when I was with the government, I had the fastest time of the car chase obstacle thingy," she said tartly.

"That in no way comforts me," Giles said. Buffy huffed a sigh and her phone rang.

"Willow!" she said. "Hi!"

"Hey Buffy," the hacker said. "Um, where are you?"

"Can't tell you," Buffy replied.

"Oh," Willow said. "Um, well, someone is doing some pretty intense searching for you two. Like crashing government servers kind of intense."

"Oh!," Buffy exclaimed, "Hey Giles, I think your little friends are trying to locate us, Willow says they've been using some pretty intense virtual firepower."

"What?" Giles said.

"Hacking, bad, internet," Buffy said.

"Ah, yes, well er,"

"Anything else, Will?" Buffy asked.

"Um, just that I won't be able to be in contact for a while, Buffy, I really don't want to lose my job," Willow said. Buffy gave a sad smile.

"Yeah, Wills, I understand. Be careful," she said.

"You too Buffy," said Willow. Buffy terminated the call.

"So that's good, I guess," she said. Giles looked at her in confusion.

"I believe the word you used earlier was bad," he stated dryly.

"Yeah," Buffy replied, "to describe their actions. They won't get through anyway, and I bet this Michaels guy isn't too big into technology anyway, after going without it for ten years in the slammer. It means we can-"

"Control the information," Giles nodded. "Very good."

"What would we need to give him in order to get him to trust the information we want to feed him?" Buffy asked. Giles looked thoughtful.

"Well," he said, "He was bloody arrogant, I can tell you that, but I don't know what has happened to his personality while in prison, and that tends to change one quite a bit."

"But if we make him work a bit for the information would he probably buy it?" Buffy asked.

Giles looked thoughtful. "I think it depends on the types of work. I think that he's probably a bit paranoid now, and wouldn't trust any of his own people, so he needs to find it himself."

Buffy nodded. "Okay, so how will we manage that? How does this guy get his info?" Giles looked thoughtful.

"I can't say I'm sure. Back when he ran the Liberators before his stint in prison, he was usually a man based operator, but he also used the library and other print sources to get plans for buildings."

"Do you think he'd be planning an explosion here?" Buffy asked. Giles looked grim.

"I'd imagine that's how he intends to kill me," he replied. Buffy nodded slowly.

"Okay," she said after a few minutes. "How's this. He doesn't know me, so I can find and follow him for a few days. When I've gotten his routine, we can determine the best way to give him a location to target for you. It should be somewhere fairly public, preferably with security, and we need to ensure that he strikes you there. When he does, we'll force him to leave his vehicle, one of us will plant the drugs, and then we can call the police and frame him."

Giles thought about it for a few minutes.

"I think," he said tentatively, "That could work, but first we'll need to locate him." Buffy smiled.

"This is my hometown, Giles, and I actually live around here when I'm not on the job. It shouldn't pose too much of a problem."

Angel sat in an apartment, slumped in an armchair and glanced at the clock. Wesley was late. Wesley was never late. The man was fastidious and punctual and stuffy, fulfilling all the uptight British stereotypes. If he was late, then that meant things weren't going according to plan, and he had been planning this for a. Very. Long. Time.

Wesley chose that moment to walk in.

"You're late," Angel said, his voice dripping icicles.

"Yes, well," Angel frowned and sat up straight. The man looked embarrassed. That wasn't like him.

"Why?" he demanded of the other man.

"Eh, phone call that went on too long, really nothing," Wes replied, pulling at his collar. Angel stared him down.

"What _the hell_, Wesley, was so important," he snapped. If anything, Wesley turned redder.

"Never mind!" he exclaimed hastily. "The Mordeci's have agreed not to seek you out again, they sounded sincere, they said they wished to keep things in their family anyway, and they know much better than to try to kill you after the affair with the Algerians."

"Good," Angel said coolly. "Then what took so long?"

"Personal call, personal nature, and I couldn't bloody well ignore it!" the man snapped back at him. Angel raised an eyebrow but Wesley held his gaze. He snorted.

"Never thought to see the day you had a personal life, Wes," he replied, standing up and walking over to the wet bar to pull out two glasses and whiskey.

"You're hardly one to talk," the other man said cattily. Angel fixed him with a look that did not bode well for his future. Wesley lowered his gaze and Angel gave a nod, pouring two glasses.

"Does that mean," he said handing Wesley a glass, "That Wesley _Wyndam_-_Pryce ____has fallen in love?" His tone was mocking. _

"Not necessarily," the other man replied. "But it really is none of your business." He set down his glass.

"Good night, Angel"

Angel watched him leave with an enigmatic smile on his lips. His business or not, he would know in a few days exactly what was going on with Wes. But the meeting had progressed well enough. He had finished the arduous task of severing all of his ties. He was free. No one could call on him and expect him to answer. He had made it clear that he was retiring as an assassin.

And now he was free to do whatever he wished. Life was about to get interesting. He glanced at the clock. He wasn't going to call Buffy, he told himself firmly. Didn't stop him from reaching for his phone and looking at her number. It had been fairly difficult to get, but burn phones were not infallible.

He stared at his phone. To call or not to call. Once she had chosen yes, so what was stopping him?

_Buffy Anne Summers. She was now eighteen, and lovelier than ever. She split her time between her alcoholic mother and negligent father now. Forced to repeatedly uproot herself at the whims of a custody arrangement. He worried about her, she was becoming withdrawn and sad, and for some reason, it caused his cold dead heart to ache for her. _

_What was it about Buffy that so enchanted him? Hell, he was stalking her. And he had only talked to her once, one sunny terrifying day in Tokyo. The only question that really remained in his mind was whether he was obsessed or in love. IT might have been a bit of both. _

_She was graduating high school tomorrow, here in the small suburban town of Sunnydale. Then she would go to college somewhere new, he expected. Unfortunately for him, he didn't yet know where. She was out with her redheaded friend, whose name was Willow. They seemed tense, and he had wondered why. _

"_We could all die!" the redhead exclaimed. His eyebrows rose. _

"_Relax Wills," Buffy replied. "If we do, we'll be doing it as high school graduates! Think of the honor!" _

"_Think of the bodies! Ours!" her friend exclaimed. Buffy shrugged. _

"_We'll all die anyway Willow, may as well at least try to take the mayor down and survive. I think our chances are better." _

_Okay, now he was intrigued. And worried. What was all this talk about dying! Buffy was in a small suburban town that had a nonexistent crime rate according the database he had accessed. And the mayor? What was that all about?_

"_We could try , like, the FBI or something?" Willow said. Buffy looked wistful. _

"_Sometimes authorities disappoint you. Sometimes they ignore anything a teenager says, and goes with whatever bogus excuse that the adults around them create. If we call the FBI Willow, they'll call the Sunnydale police. And what do you think they're going to say?" _

_Willow moaned. _

"_Besides," Buffy said, her face grim, "Who would believe that the mayor of a nice little town like our would be in cahoots with a Mexican drug lord and is planning on turning our graduation into a massacre-slash-kidnapping, then blowing up the school and running south?"_

"_It sounds a little um, yeah, when you say it like that," the redhead said nervously. Buffy nodded. _

"_Our battle plan may not be perfect, but I bet you that the mayor is just expecting that the knockout gas in the gym will render us all easy to deal with while he and his cronies put on as masks. But we've removed it and you put in that thing that looks like it but is harmless and has a really long name that I can't pronounce."_

_The read head nodded as the two of them walked away. _

"_Plus we've got all those weapons!"she said. "Oh and-" her voice faded as they continued to walk away. _

_Angel remained perched on the rooftop in a state of shock. His present would have to wait. Clearly, he would need to be attending her graduation in person._

It had been that incident, with Buffy's superb handling of the crisis, that had brought her to the attention of the government. He had cursed himself seven ways as a fool. He should have taken out Wilkins himself, but the man was heavily guarded, and in all honesty, he had wanted to see how Buffy handled herself in a situation like that. She certainly hadn't let him down.

But she had drawn the attention of a whole bunch of government agencies, and boy and they been interested in her. They had offered her a full ride scholarship if she considered working for them. And she had accepted. She could attend one of the best schools in the country, and would never have to see her parents again. He got it. But why did it have to be the government? As soon as they started training her, really informing her. She would have some idea of who he was.

It was lucky he had seen her before that, really.

But back to the dilemma at hand. Should he call her? She would be with Giles, and he wanted Giles to stick around for at least a bit. Buffy needed someone she could trust, and unfortunately at the moment he didn't quite make that list.

Eh, what the hell, he pressed call. The phone rang once, twice, thrice, and she picked up.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Buffy," he said.

"Angel," she breathed.

"How are you?" he murmured

"I'm okay," she said, "What are you up to Angel?" He hesitated a moment.

"I was just talking to an associate. He gave me some good news."

"Oh," she said. "What?" He hesitated again, but really, she should know and he wanted to be the one to tell her.

"I'm free Buffy," he told her. "I'm, well, retired you could say."

"Oh," she breathed. He waited anxiously for her response.

"Angel…"

"Yes, love?" the endearment unconsciously slipping out. He heard her intake of breath.

"Why?" How to respond? _Buffy, I'm madly in love with you run away and marry me_? He didn't think she'd say yes at that particular moment.

"Well, I'm getting older," he said. She snorted.

"You're thirty six."

"That's older than last year," he joked.

"Comedian you are not," she laughed.

"Why Angel?" she asked in a softer tone. He hesitated. Baring his soul was not something that came naturally to him. And that may have been the understatement of the year.

"I am getting older Buffy," he said, "I don't want to spend the rest of my life…Well, I'd like to spend it a little differently. And I like L.A."

"Liar," came her response.

"Okay," he conceded with a soft laugh. "I mostly hate L.A., but I'm pretty anonymous in this town, I can work on my tan if I want, and you're here, which means it's going to be a hell of a lot more interesting than anywhere else I could be right now."

"Angel.." her voice traveled down the line, her breathy tone affecting him more than he would like.

"I'll give you time to think about it, _milseán_. Help Giles take down those Liberator idiots, figure out what's going on with the burn notice. You have my number now. Call me when you're ready."

"Are you serious?" she asked softly.

"I am," _I love you. _

"I-, I hope I'll hear from you soon," He told her, "I'll keep my ears open for any information about what went down in Russia or anything about Travers."

"Thank you," she said. They both stayed on the line, silent.

"Well one of us has to hang up," she said.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Unless you want to play that silly game teenagers used to."

She gave a soft laugh. "Goodnight, Angel."

He looked at the phone.

"Goodnight Buffy."

* * *

Feedback is greatly appreciated :)


	6. Chapter 5

**_This is shorter than usual, but it has been ages since I've posted. I have finally decompressed, and am back to writing more regularly. I plan on finishing Blindness this summer, and also, this story. Then I can focus on some of the new ideas I've had. _**

**_On another note, I need a Beta. So if you're interested, drop me a line. :)_**

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Chapter 5

"And so anyway I was like, who do you think I am dude? I mean _hello_! I'm like, totally _right there_ and he's all hey, oh, this is my slutty girlfriend and like, be all jealous or whatever and I'm like, _really_? Dude, I totally _dumped_ your stupid ass and then he-" and that point Buffy was forced to pause by her need to breathe.

"He was totally loservilles."

Her target, Geoffrey Michaels, was standing not three feet away from her and was himself carrying on and actual conversation, as opposed to talking to Giles who knew to tune her out when she was in her valley girl persona.

"I can't find him!" the man was snarling. Buffy looked at her pink and silver nails. She walked closer to the man. "

"I know!" she exclaimed and bumped into the man.

"Watch where you're going" he snarled.

"What is this?" she snarked, "Invasion of the brits! I swear, if I see one more middle aged dude who thinks _tweed_ is acceptable summer-wear…. Whatever, no need to be rude, British dude!" She stalked off.

Buffy could feel the man's eyes on her back. He was definitely interested. She stalked down the road, pausing to admire a cute dress in the window of a boutique. She then made her way into the post office and mailed donation under an assumed name charity benefiting orphans in Africa. She stalked back to her car afterwards. The man was still there. She glared at him and drove away. He followed at a discreet distance.

Buffy smiled. The idiot had actually taken the bait, on the off chance that the other Brit would be his enemy. While L.A. wasn't the sort of town Englishmen typically flocked to, there were still plenty there. It was a very big city after all. Michaels was as stupid and arrogant as Giles had told her.

She pressed a button on her cell phone.

"Well?" Giles asked.

"He actually took it," she replied gleefully.

"Wonderful!" he said. "You're coming to the apartment then?"

"Yep," she said. "You'll be wearing a vest, just in case he decided he can't wait, right?"

"Yes Buffy," Giles said. "This _is_ fortunate."

"I know, right?" she said. "I'm just waiting for something to go wrong."

And then something did.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Spike, or William the Bloody, or simply William Bluddy, had never been known for his patience. The plane ride over the pond to L.A. had taken up most of his limited reserve. Dealing first with his baggage, and then with the locals, had eaten the rest of it up. He was pissed and wanted Michaels dead. About five minutes ago.

Damn rental places. But that was beside the point. He had procured a massive truck and had, finally, managed to locate Michaels. He was in some little blue sedan and was turning off the so-called expressway, about to turn after a pink beetle into a parking structure for some uppity apartment building.

Spike rammed into him.

The car flipped over and skidded into a nearby street-sign, knocking it over. He pulled up next to it and pulled out his gun. Michaels was dazed, but trying to get out of the seatbelt that was keeping him suspended upside down. Best to put a stop to that. Spike shot out the window and then shot Michaels in the head twice.

It was done.

There was a second of pain when electricity went shooting through his system and then nothing.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey Giles?"

"Yes Buffy?"

"Change of plans"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Spike awoke to darkness. When he turned his head the cloth that he assumed himself to be covered in moved with him. His hands were tied behind his back, zip-ties if he was correct, and he was bound to a chair in an upright position.

"Who are you?" came a man's voice. It was cold, emotionless, and mature enough that Spike was pretty damn sure that his interrogator was over the age of 35. Spike remained silent.

"Why did you kill Michaels?" the man asked him. He had a British accent. Probably one of those bleedin' Liberators. Damn. Spike remained silent. It was better not to give away any information until he knew a little more about the man who had him tied to a chair. Could he play him? Worth a shot.

"Wh-why am I here?" he said, making his voice as panicked and pathetic as he could.

"You smashed your rental car Mister… James Marsters…into the car of one Geoffrey Michaels, head of the terrorist organization known as the Liberators and then sent two excellently placed bullets into his head. I'd like to know why," came the response. Bullocks.

The man clearly knew that he was not 'James' and that he had intentionally killed Michaels. Maybe he should have just snapped the man's neck or bludgeoned him to death. Would have been less obvious at first glance.

Spike felt his burn phone vibrating. Wonderful. His interrogator inhaled for a moment and then pried the phone out of Spike's jeans. Fortunately, he didn't seem to enjoy it.

He heard the soft electronic beep as the man picked up the call.

"Spike! Where the in the name of God are you and why the hell am I getting reports that Michaels was killed in a car crash and found with bullets in his brain! Just how fucking stupid are you!" Angelus snarled out of the other line. Spike heard the other man's sharp intake of breath.

"Hello Angelus," he spoke, his voice as cold as Spike could imagine. He clearly loathed the other man.

"Rupert?" came the Ponce's voice. "I assume you witnessed Spike's sloppy assassination?"

"Your associate is currently tied to one of my chairs."

Judging by the tone of 'Rupert' Spike wouldn't be tied to that chair much longer. He would be rotting in a ditch.

"Oh," there was a pause.

"Well," Angelus said. "Spike was after Michaels for revenge and has no beef against you…unless you messed with his leather jacket. If you did, leave him tied up. Or kill him. Otherwise, you could probably let him go after you agree to play nicely and such." Spike could not believe it. The bloody brooder himself had cracked a joke. Amazing.

"Forgive me," the Englishman spat, "if I choose not to rely on your judgment in matters of trust!"

Ouch. There was definitely a grudge there.

"Oi," Spike said. "Who'd Peaches kill?"

The man looked at him incredulously.

"I beg your pardon, _what_ did you say?" the man asked, clearly stunned.

Spike took a brief moment to savor the expression.

"Peaches," he said impatiently, and oh so casually, "Who'd he kill to piss you off?"

There was silence from the phone as his interrogator contemplated him. The man, Rupert, abruptly snapped the phone shut, hanging up on the wanker. He turned to Spike and said coldly,

"This is how things are going to go."

Buffy was sitting on the kitchen table, a habit her parents had never been able to break her of, bored out of her mind. Giles had insisted he be the one to interrogate the mysterious Mr. Marsters and though she rankled at taking orders, even from Giles, she decided to let him deal with his personal shit rather than risk damaging their relationship.

The fact that she hated torture also contributed to her decision.

She sat on the table a bit longer, waiting. Time inched by slowly. She picked at her fingernails.

"I am in definite need of a manicure," she said to herself.

Buffy frowned. Talking to one's self was never a good sign. Clearly, she just wasn't meant to sit still for long periods of time. She slid off the table and began pacing. Her thoughts drifted back to Angel, and she contemplated their last conversation.

Was he really going to stop being an assassin? Could she trust him? And if so, what was going to happen between them? He had been a constant in her life since she was eighteen, but his presence had always been…the same somehow. Things hadn't changed between them much since the first couple of their liaisons. He would catch her off job, or occasionally on job, and they would spend a few glorious days together. She usually protested at first and denounced him and his little deeds and then weakened and gave in. They would go to the opera, the ballet, a nice restaurant. Or the beach, or on a picnic.

They also had a lot of sex.

Okay, yes, but it was more than that, right? I mean, Buffy was pretty sure Angel cared about her, if even just a little bit. Not that he had ever said, 'I love you', or you know, 'Hey Buffy, I don't wish you dead'. Although if he had wished her dead, he would have probably killed her. He certainly wouldn't have had a moral issue with it.

Her phone rang. Unidentified number. Angel.

"Hello?"

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**_Reviews encourage me to write faster...:)_**


	7. Chapter 6

**_Finally! An Update! Seriously though, RL is kicking my ass. In a major kind of way. This chapter is shorter than I would have liked but since I finally know where this story is going for certain, I figure it won't be too long before I update it again. _**

**_I also want to thank Abigael Ryan, for politely prompting me to move my lazy ass and get writing again. _**

* * *

Chapter 6

Angel stared at the phone in his hand with surprise. Spike had killed Michaels. Publicly. Recklessly.

He should have seen it coming.

And now Rupert was at this very moment interrogating his bleached associate. He didn't want Spike to see Buffy's father figure as the enemy. And he definitely didn't want Buffy in the middle of something like that.

He dialed her newest number from memory.

"Hello?" Buffy's voice drifted down the line.

"Buffy," he murmured.

"Angel." Her voice, a sigh.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Umm, yeah," she said. "Angel, how did you know?"

"The man who crashed into Michaels was an…associate of mine. His name is Spike. The Liberators are responsible for the death of the woman he loved, and he tends to be a bit of an idiot sometimes."

Angel waited a beat.

"Buffy?" he asked.

"What?" she said.

"Can I come and see you?" he asked.

"What?" she said, sounding confused.

"I want to come to see you, find out if Spike is safe to let go, make sure he doesn't do any damage, that sort of thing," he told her.

"Oh," Buffy said. He thought she sounded disappointed. It was like a bullet to the chest.

"I don't wanna mess up your relationship with Rupert, baby, but this is important," he told her.

"Oh," she said. "Is this some super secret assassin thing?"

Buffy tended to lash you when she was feeling hurt. Strange that he found it so endearing.

"No," he told her gently. "It's more of a 'I don't want any problems kind of thing'. I've already told you I plan to stick around for a little while."

"Oh," she said.

"Can I see you?" he pressed.

There was a moment of hesitation.

"Yes."

Angel was aware that his smile was a little ridiculous. He just couldn't bring himself to care. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. It looked like in the end he was finally going to get the only thing that had ever really mattered.

"I'll see in fifteen," he told her.

"Okay," she breathed.

"I-" Angel faltered. _I love you_. "I'll see you soon."

He accelerated, the rubber of his absurdly expensive tires staining the floor of the parking garage he was leaving.

As he drove to Buffy's safe house, his mind was racing. With Michaels out of the way, the only real obstacles to his and Buffy's happiness were her morals, her pride, and her mentor.

Buffy had spent so long trying to protect her country, her world. He doubted it would be an easy thing to convince her to abandon them to their fate. It would also be difficult to convince her to make a life with him. He knew she wanted him, maybe even loved him, but to convince her to run off with him rather than just spend a few days in his company would be difficult.

He suspected that she would desire to clear her name, which he could certainly understand. And it would be hard to clear her name if she, the recently blacklisted CIA agent, ran off with a (recently ex) assassin to live on a private island.

Giles might also have some objections with the plan, and Angel was loath to kill the man. He respected him for one, which was rare, and it had been Angel' machinations that placed the older Englishman into Buffy's life. Rupert might have never been in the highly dangerous position of standing between Angel and his heart's greatest desire had it not been for Angel himself. On top of that, Buffy would probably try to kill him.

Angel had some work to do.

He pulled up in front of the small innocuous looking house and cut the engine. He took a moment to collect himself and walked to the front door. He knocked gently.

The door was flung open and Buffy was there, glorious and golden, a gun in her hand. She motioned him in and bolted the door behind him, putting the safety back on her firearm before placing it on the worn kitchen table.

Angel sat in one of the cute little kitchen chairs.

"Nice place," he grinned at her. She gave him a quirky little smile. His eyes were drawn to the tip of her funny little nose.

"Um, Angel," she said. He looked at her.

"Giles knows you're here."

He raised an eyebrow.

"He's not entirely happy about it, but he's agreed not to kill you which is only ever a positive thing!" she said. Angel suspected she might be nervous enough to go into what ha affectionately termed 'babble mode'.

"Well, you killed Jenny! And she was his girlfriend, even if she _was_ a nasty sneaky double agent. And I think by now we both know that logic doesn't really have much to do with love. And I am in no way implying that there is any love between us at all and-"

Angel cut Buffy off. She was panicking a little.

"Buffy," he told her. "I do love you. I have for a very long time."

She looked very stunned.

"Oh," she breathed. Angel smiled self-depreciatingly.

"I haven't told you before, and I should have, I should have a million times. It would have scared you off, I was sure, but still, it would have been better for you to know what you were getting into by being with me."

"Angel-"

"I should have told you Buffy, I should have told you when I saw you running down the streets, lost in Tokyo, that I loved you. In my whole life, I've never loved anyone else."

Buffy sat down on the chair she was standing next to. She looked mystified. She turned her large green eyes on him.

"You love me?" she asked.

He smiled.

"I love you," he told her. A dazzling smile crept onto her face. Was it any mystery why he loved this girl?

"Really, really?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. The corner of Angel's mouth tilted up.

"Yeah baby," he said. He was having an actual conversation about emotions. Would wonders never cease?

Her smile faded a little.

"Angel-" she began hesitantly, doubt written across her face.

"I'm not asking for anything baby, not much anyway, just let me stick around you for a bit, okay? We'll figure it out from there," he told her.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

"Oh BLOODY HELL!" roared a voice form the basement.

Buffy and Angel swiftly turned to face the door.

"Should we..." she indicated the door. He nodded. They made their way to the door cautiously.

Buffy turned the knob and slowly opened the door.

"Giles?" she called.

"Yes?" came the crisp tones of Buffy's mentor.

"Is everything alright?" she inquired hesitantly.

"Yes," came the curt reply.

Angel placed his hands on Buffy's wait and maneuvered around her and began the decent to the basement.

She grabbed his forearm and gave him an anxious look. He rolled his eyes in response and gently pecked her cheek.

Angel was determined that the inevitable confrontation between Rupert and himself would be swift. This presented a good opportunity, especially with Spike there as a buffer. Despite all his anger, the Englishman would still be loath to air all of his dirty laundry in front of a stranger.

He stepped off the last stair and found himself face to face with Ripper himself.

"Hello Rupert, Spike," he glanced over to see the bleached explosives expert. Spike was wearing a particularly interesting shade of purple on his right eye.

"Ponce" said Spike. Angel glanced up at the ceiling before turning his full attention to Spike.

"You never think, do you?" he said.

Spike sneered at him. Rupert glowered at him. Angel felt Buffy's gaze from behind him.

As an assassin, he was very wary of being the center of attention. He was more comfortable blending in with the shadows.

Before he got a chance to put his resolve to work, Spike interrupted.

"What the fuck are you doing here anyway, Angelus?" he said. "Why aren't you picking up that nancy-boy hair gel you like so much or flapping your black coat ominously?"

Buffy, Rupert, and Angel all stared at Spike.

"What?" he said.

Angel shook his head.

"Actually Buffy, I have some information about the burn notice," he said, directing his comment at Buffy while making eye contact with Rupert.

He respected the man, but Rupert had better learn quickly that he was not to be fucked with.

Buffy tilted her chin up and took a breath.

"What is it?" she asked, green eyes flashing with determination.

"It was arranged by an organization called 'The Council'," he told her, "They're…interested in you."

Giles sucked in a breath. It was subtle, but the twitch of his hands as he halted their motion to his glasses was not unobserved by the three operatives in the room.

"Care to share with the class?" Angel asked the man.

"I-I've heard of them," the man admitted. "Terribly vague, nothing is certain, expect that they are ruthless and that they are large. Their operations are speculated to span the globe."

Angel nodded. "They deal with everything from murder for hire, stealing nuclear weapons, starting a war…and this method recruiting by burn notice has been one of their practices for a while now, if my contact is to be believed."

"But the burn notice came from CIA," Buffy objected. Angel shook his head. How she still managed to retain any naivety was a constant source of amazement to him.

"Buffy," he said. "They sold you out. You're not CIA officially. You worked for an unnamed black ops group. Nothing on the books, no records. I'm sure that The Council offered them something in return. Or maybe it was simply corruption from within. The point is you can't trust these people. They don't give a damn about loyalty. It's all about the greater good, the mission. If they thought it was advantageous to give you up, they would. And they did."

A few years ago Buffy likely would gave cried, Angel thought, but now she accepted the reality of her situation as easily as she would a physical blow, though he knew that for the next day or so she would be more touchy, and that later in the night, all alone in her bed, she would shed quiet tears for the last of her innocence.

"Okay," she said. "Okay, so what happens now?"

Angel nodded approvingly.

"They're gonna come looking for you. And I suspect that they won't know that you know. That gives you lots of options."

Buffy considered him for a moment.

"I'm sort of leaning towards telling them to screw themselves at this moment."

* * *

**_Feed the Beast._**


	8. Chapter 7

_**Thanks for your patience, I have been totally swamped since my winter break ended. Calculus is kicking my ass, and I have had next to no free time. **_

**_Hopefully my next update will come a little sooner. _**

* * *

Chapter 7

Buffy watched Angel's face following her little outburst. There was a slow smile spreading over that absurdly handsome face. His eyelids lowered slightly, she noted. He was pleased.

"You said they would come," she addressed him. "You didn't say when."

He nodded.

"I can't say for sure, but from what I understand, they want you to be a little desperate first, and to give up hope that you'll get you old job back. They want you to be grateful to them."

His tone was dispassionate but his eyes glittered dangerously.

"A month or two then," she said. He shrugged.

Giles looked at Angel with hard eyes. "I find it a little suspicious that you just so happened to be here, Angelus, right when Buffy was betrayed."

Angel returned the Englishman's hateful gaze with a condescending look.

"These things tend to make waves, and since Buffy took out De Veers last year, certain people have been paying attention to her. The fact that I am always informed on what she's doing didn't hurt either," he retorted.

The other two men in the room stared at him, shocked at the depths of his obsession. Buffy didn't bat an eyelash. She had already thrown a fit and yelled herself hoarse when she had found out a year and a half ago.

Angel chose to ignore the spluttering and focus on his girl.

"Buffy, they're going to start out nicely, which gives you a little more time than usual, but keep in mind that The Council is an extensive organization. They have access to every country, and they have enough people and resources that it would be very difficult to evade them forever. But you're just one person. You're good, and they want you, but as long as you don't make them lose face, they're only gonna chase you for so long before they write it off," he explained to her.

She nodded slowly.

"I could fake my death, disappear," she spoke, her voice pensive.

He nodded, relieved she felt that way.

"But I am being tracked by the FBI, and I bet my old group has someone on me, just in case I decide to go spill secrets to the enemy," she said.

He nodded. Buffy sighed.

Giles was a little purple in the face after watching the woman he loved as a daughter have a civil, and indeed intimate, conversation with the man responsible for the death of his lover. Spike was still adjusting to the idea that Angel wasn't a totally emotionless bastard, but rather a cold but apparently infatuated bastard.

"Can your friend be trusted?" Buffy asked.

"Oi! I am _not_ his friend!" Spike yelled.

Everyone ignored him. Angel looked hardly at Spike.

"Oh, he knows better," he said coolly.

"Good," Buffy sighed. "This is a lot to take in."

He gave her a sympathetic nod.

"Okay," Buffy said decisively. "We can all stay here for the night, and talk more tomorrow. You should pull your car into the garage," she said to Angel.

He gave a nod.

"Buffy!" Giles exploded.

Buffy looked at her friend and mentor. She didn't want to lose him. But this was Angel. Losing _him_ was unacceptable.

"Giles can we talk?" she asked quietly, jerking her head to the side in that universal gesture that meant 'come over here, away from those other people'. Okay, maybe it wasn't so universal after all. But Giles knew her well enough to follow.

She deliberately moved towards the room farthest away from the basement, where hopefully, there would be less of a chance of the yelling reaching Angel and his British…friend.

"Giles, I need you to trust me," she told him. His eyes were enraged, and he did not respond.

"I know you hate Angel, I know how much it hurt you to see him," she continued.

"It hurts the worst to see you with him," Giles hissed at her. "Consorting with Jenny's murderer…"

Buffy's eyes flashed.

"Janna," she said. "I know you loved her Giles, but she lied to you and used you and betrayed you. And I've known Angel since I was sixteen and useless. Maybe it makes me a bad person, maybe it makes me weak, but he is the one person who I can always rely on to put me first. It's all he's ever done!"

Her mentor looked at her with hate filled eyes, and Buffy realized just how much it would hurt her, were Giles to walk away now.

"I don't want to lose you, Giles," she whispered.

Buffy watched emotions play over Giles' face; the rage, the disappointment, the guilt, the acceptance.

He finally spoke, "I can…tolerate him here….for a while, but Buffy, you had better know what you're doing here. That man is not trustworthy."

Buffy nodded at him. Giles was more wrong than he would ever guess. Angel, Buffy had found, was the only person she knew who was completely trustworthy.

Later that night Buffy lay in her bed with the covers pulled up to her chin and stared blankly at the ceiling. Everything was changing so fast, which normally was fine for the spy, but this time it was different. It was her life, and her relationships that were changing, and she was deathly afraid that the results would be as horrible as they were the last time something this drastic had happened to her. Her parents' divorce and the consequences of it had not been pleasant, but she had made it through. It offered her some assurance but she still worried.

A large part of it was due to Angel though. Angel who had saved her in the streets of Tokyo, Angel who had made sure she was never alone…

Angel who was opening the door to her room which she had _locked_ before going to bed…

He shut the door behind him, but the faint light from the hallway allowed Buffy to see that he wore only a loose pair of sleeping pants. He walked over to her bed. Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Scoot," he said.

"Bossy," Buffy muttered.

She moved over and he slid into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her still form. After a moment, she shifted and snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"Good girl," he spoke into her skin, "Now sleep."

And with the arms of her assassin wrapped around her, Buffy did just that.

_One month later….._

A strong pair of arms snaked around Buffy's form and she giggled. Angel grinned from behind her as he nuzzled into her neck. Buffy's eyes slid shut and she allowed a smile to light up her face.

It was times like these that she couldn't help but feel that everything was wonderful…

"Oi!" came a voice, "Will you two bloody lovebirds stop half-shagging each other long enough to help with supper!"

And then Spike inevitably ruined it. Judging by the look on her lover's face, Spike's future just became questionable.

"I know some great places to hide bodies around here," she murmured to Angel.

He looked at the bleached menace with narrowed eyes.

"We wouldn't hide the body," he said loudly, "We'd display it in public, that way, everyone would know just what happens when you annoy the people you're living with so much that-"

"Yeah, yeah," said Spike, "You're making desert mate, and you're on salad duty blondie, seeing as you're the only one who likes it anyway…"

Spike walked back into the kitchen, shaking his head.

"Why doesn't he leave?" Buffy groaned, laying her head on Angel's chest.

Angel shook his head.

"He's pesky that way," he said. "A bit of a moocher, and he likes you," his tone was a little jealous.

Buffy looked alarmed. Angel spotted her expression and laughed.

"Oh not quite like that darling, he knows I'd torture him to death slowly if he so much as thought about it," he said.

"Then why the evil face?" Buffy asked. Angel shrugged, and walked into the kitchen. Stupid assassin.

Yes, things were pretty okay in Buffy's mind. So, an evil organization called The Council was probably going to try to recruit her soon, her father figure had taken an apartment very far away in an effort to ignore the fact she was sleeping with his lover's killer, and her lover's annoying bleached….friend had taken up residence in her safe house, and she was doing odd jobs around the city to make money while she waited to see what was happening next and she really had absolutely no control over what happened next and…

Angel tugged her into the kitchen.

"You're thinking too much," he told her quietly. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Some might say I'm not thinking enough," she retorted.

"Some might say that sunshine follows Sunday…" Spike began singing. Angel and Buffy whirled to look at him.

"Go and tell it to the man who cannot shine," he continued, oblivious. As they continued to gape at him, he turned around and drawled.

"What? A bloke can only take so much of the two of you and all your bloody dramatics. I feel like I'm watching the Titanic. Or maybe one of them Greek tragedies."

"Oasis?" Buffy asked after a moment. The two men looked at her in surprise.

She shrugged. "The Gallaghers were hot."

Angel grinned at her use of the past tense.

As the three of them were working in the kitchen in a somewhat-companionable silence, Buffy's phone began to ring. She looked at the caller ID. It was Cordelia Chase.

"Oh….Fuck," she said. Angel and Spike looked at her in surprise. Buffy rarely swore. Angel had only seen her do so outside of bed a handful of times. Spike had never seen her say anything worse than 'crap'.

Buffy opened the phone warily.

"Buf-fy!" rang out the dulcet tones of Cordelia Chase, "I know you're there! This is sooooo totally all your fault, and if you and your freaky little friend don't help me, so help me God I'll-"

"Cordeila, shut up," Buffy said while motioning to Angel that she was going outside.

"What are you talking about?" she asked the former Queen of Sunnydale High.

"Remember that thing at graduation with the mayor and the drug cartel?"

"Yes," Buffy answered, "that's not the sort of thing you forget."

"Well apparently, some loser called Andrew Wells filmed it. And Buffy, the official statement or whatever was that a gas leak tragically killed Sunnydale's mayor and some citizens."

"I know this, Cordeila. Can you get to the point?" Buffy retorted.

"This video could ruin my marriage Buffy!" Cordeila screeched.

"What?" Buffy asked, incredulous.

"I am engaged to Richard Anderson, Buffy, as in Anderson cosmetics, Anderson farms, you get the picture. This man is rich, Buffy, very rich. And I'm not being shallow! Just think of the people I could help with my money!"

"Still not seeing the picture, Cordy!"Buffy responded in an overly bright voice. The one she susally used before committing murder.

"He's blackmailing me Buffy! If I don't get him a million dollars in three days, that video is being sent to Richard!" Cordelia wailed.

Buffy shook her head incredulously.

"Seriously! Cordeila, it's not that big a deal. So what, you told him the official FBI sanctioned story. No big deal," she repeated.

"But it is! I told Richard the night I met him that I missed my graduation because I was in Bali!"

"Your lies are not my problem Cordeila," Buffy said firmly.

"Wait!" Cordy screeched.

Buffy hung up on her.

Cordelia had been one of the few people she had stayed in contact with after high school. The girl had been humbled by her near death experience and the loss of her family fortune. Now however, it seemed she had reverted back to her old ways.

Angel wrapped his arms around her from behind and she settled into his loose embrace.

"What was that all about?' he asked.

Buffy shook her head pensively.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I'm not sure."

* * *

**_"R-E-V-I-E-W What's that spell?"_**

**_ I dunno, as the idea of cheerleaders spelling caused me to burst into maniacal laughter before the word was finished. ;) _**


	9. Chapter 8

_So after an admittedly long break, I am back writing. For now, this is the only one of my old stories off hiatus, but I do hope to come back to Blindness. However, I think that unlike this story, that may be in need of a complete rewrite._

* * *

After dinner, Buffy was quiet as she and Angel cleared over the table. By this time, they had become comfortable enough with each other that he didn't ask her what she was thinking about. Normally, they would have done something together, but he didn't think that was what she was hinting at as she drifted off to their bedroom. Still, he followed anyway. _No harm in being prepared._ She was pulling the laptop off the little white shelf in the corner. Their eyes met as he entered the room. Her gaze was reassuring and apologetic.

"Something Cordelia said," she said without prompting. "I just want to look into a few things. It's probably nothing." he shrugged.

"Still good to check," he asserted. She nodded.

_In the shadowy business of espionage, covert operations, and assassinations, it was always better to satisfy your paranoia. Even a half-forgotten thought could indicate a greater problem. And unlike other areas, it wasn't likely to result in a forgotten appointment, or an irritated executive. When death was a very real possibility in the event of a mistake, you paid close attention to your hunches. _

She left the room, and he followed her back to the kitchen where the little machine booted up. He pecked her on the cheek and joined Spike in the other room, where the man was watching a football match. It was weird to see an English match on an American television, without cable, but that was Spike. The man was an oddity.

The hum of the television and the yells of the announcer soothed Buffy as her dinosaur finally allowed her to open an internet browser. The thing was ancient, almost 6 years old, but it was secure.

_Richard Anderson_, she typed, and scrolled down the results. The man seemed to be what Cordelia had told her. He was from a wealthy family, rich in his own right, and judging from the look on his face in the photographs she found from press events, arrogant and snobby. He had been linked to a string of beautiful women, but the papers had been very interested in his engagement to "actress/model Cordelia Chase". As she continued to scroll down, an article caught her eye.

"10 Killed in Anderson Chemical Plant Explosion"

She clicked on the link. It was from a local paper; none of the larger outlets appeared to have picked up the story. She scrolled down, reading.

She opened up a new tab, and started a new search.

"Angel," Buffy called. He got off the couch and moved to join her.

"Whipped," Spike muttered.

"I _could_ flay you," Angel replied, nearly noiselessly. The other man just grinned, used to inventive threats from the once-fearsome assassin.

"What is it, my love?" he asked her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She turned her head around to face him.

"I think that something more is up with the thing my…friend Cordelia called me about."

She looked at him inquiringly. He nodded for her to go on.

"Well," she said. "Here's the thing. His family's businesses were well established by the time young Richard graduated from school. He started up pretty high, not running the company or anything, but clearly, he was being groomed for it. Then, four years ago, his father, grandfather, uncle, and cousin are all killed while visiting an industrial farm the family owns in Honduras. Militants, they say. So after all they all die, Richard takes over the company. And from what I can tell, it was a bit of a rocky start. He did some unpopular things, cutting wages, firing lots of people and putting new people in. But everything seems to be going ok. Then, the IRS starts getting interested in his bookkeeping. They have this chemical plant in Arizona that is losing tons of money, supposedly. But yet it's been operating for years. And before Richard was the President and CEO, it was a big money maker. The Feds get a warrant, and then the plant blows up. It's at night, and 10 of the workers are killed, others injured.

Among the dead are Tucker Wells, Andrew Wells' older brother. I remember them both, they went to Sunnydale High. Tucker was a burnout, and Andrew was his very nerdy, but very smart little brother. He helped at graduation. Apparently, he filmed it. He's now trying to blackmail Cordy, who is engaged to Anderson. But I think it's more than that. It looks like Anderson may have been responsible for the explosion that killed his brother. I can't help but think if he wanted to get back at the man, he would try going through his fiancée."

Angel nodded, taking it all in.

"What are you two yapping about?" Spike asked, in his usual charming way.

"Nothing, bleach brain," Buffy replied. Angel was silent.

"Hey Spike," he called.

"What," the other man responded.

"Did you hear about a bombing at a chemical plant in Arizona two months past?"

"Eh, no," Spike said. "Do you have any details, or pictures?" He turned off the television, and sauntered around the table, grabbing the back of a chair as he went and turning it. He took the laptop and started his own search.

There was a boring wait as the bomber looked at images and read descriptions and reports. At last, he snorted, and pushed the laptop away.

"Definitely not an accident," he said groping for a cigarette. A look from Buffy stopped him, and he rolled his eyes. "This is sloppy work too. Whoever did this was not professional. Either whoever ordered this hired a know-nothing who couldn't hide his work if his life depended on it, or he had it done in-house. Most of these evil corporate types have a few ex black ops types on payroll. This looks like something you would do," he said to Buffy. "Only, even you would have done a better job."

"Thanks, I think," she said dryly.

"So what are you going to do?" Angel asked Buffy. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. It was lying loose today, and getting a bit long. She could use a trim.

"I'd better give Cordelia a call. I'll let her know that Andrew may have ulterior motives, warn her not to meet with him. Maybe give her a warning about her fiancée as well, though nothing too detailed. Still, I might not be overly fond of the girl, but I don't want her to end up with a man who likely killed his own family as well as numerous others just in pursuit of power."

She glanced at the clock.

"It's not that late," she said, "I'll do it now."

Angel nodded. Spike went outside to get his nicotine fix. Buffy wouldn't let him smoke inside the house.

Buffy listened to the ringing of the phone.

"Hello," she heard.

"Hi Cordelia," she sighed.

"Buffy! Please tell me-" the other woman started.

"Listen up Cordelia, I have a lot to tell you, and none of it good."

There was a pause.

"Okay," Cordelia said, grudgingly.

"Your fiancée's company had an explosion at a chemical plant a couple months ago. People died. The explosion was not an accident. Among the dead was Tucker Wells, Andrew's older brother. He probably wants revenge, and I think he may want more than blackmail, if you get my drift. Do not meet with him, or give him any indication you know any more than you did last time you talked if he contacts you again. You should also know that Anderson is not entirely on the up and up, he may be responsible for a number of deaths, and the FBI is investigating him. You might want to think about whom you're marrying," she finished.

There was silence on the line.

"Okay, like, just because you're probably dating some penniless loser doesn't mean that-"

Buffy cut her off again.

"Listen Cordy, I really could care less about that sort of thing. I think you already know a thing or two about what happens when first the IRS and then the FBI get involved though. Just be careful, okay? And how did you get this number?"

"Willow gave it to me," Cordelia said. She hesitated a moment, and Buffy listened to her breathing.

"Thanks," she said abruptly.

"No problem," Buffy said, feeling relieved. "Take care."

"Bye."

"Bye," she finished, and hung up.

Angel had shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation.

"Everything ok?" he asked.

"I think so," she nodded. "She might be shallow, and play dumb, but Cordelia is pretty smart and has a good survival instinct… when it suits her. I only worry about Andrew doing something dumb."

"Want me to pay him a little visit?"

Buffy gave him a look.

"Not that kind of visit. I could just threaten him and get the tape. I don't want that going public. Dramatic as it is, your face would likely end up plastered on the evening news, the last place it needs to be."

She nodded.

"I think that if anyone is going to be doing a bit of B and E, Angel, it ought to be me," she said. "I'll let Giles know what the what is, get his take, and then maybe pay our little nerd a visit. He didn't seem very murderous the last time I saw him, but you never know, he could be dangerous."

Angel gave her an intense look.

"For Cordelia! Not me!" she said. "I am very capable of looking after myself, especially when it comes to amateurs." Angel grinned at her.

"Alright, darling, we'll play this your way for now. Just try not to attract too much attention. It's been long enough that The Council may start making polite inquires."

"I won't," she promised.

Spike walked back into the kitchen, ignoring the two of them in favor of his soccer match.

Angel kissed her neck.

"I think that's enough serious business for tonight, don't you darling?" he murmured. She nodded, liking the feel of his lips on her skin.

"Yes," she said, her voice sounding breathy. "You are absolutely right. Responsible time is now officially over."

"Grand," he said shutting the lid of her laptop, knowing she hated when people did that, and hauling her out of the chair. He had her over his shoulder as he made his way down the hallway, her laughter ringing out like bells.

Spike glanced up from the television to shoot a glare in their general direction. He hadn't gotten any in months.

"Bloody bastards, the both of them," he muttered.

* * *

_I would estimate that there will be another 3-4 chapters of this story, unless it totally runs away from me. _

_Reviews are love. _


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